


Snowfall

by xeriVa



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-08
Updated: 2017-09-09
Packaged: 2018-11-29 12:45:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11441151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xeriVa/pseuds/xeriVa
Summary: Helpless.After having the ability to do nothing as she watched her team be torn apart by Omnics, the word only seemed too fitting.





	1. Despair

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> None of this story is beta-read, and corrected only as I write. Feel free to voice your feedback, be it complaints, suggestions, positivity, your dogs' name or how your day went. ovo

"I'm going to step outside, clear my head a litte." Angela whispered to her coworker, just enough to be heard over the noise of people and machine combined. An understanding nod, she recieved back. She offered a small smile, before dipping her head and excusing herself. She stood for a moment, infeont of her chair, surveying the scene before her. Multitudes of people lay scattered throughout the stucture. The ones on the ground on thin sheets, probably offering nothing in the way of comfort. A few lucky ones, who were rather unlucky, lie on hospital beds. The beds were surely more comfortable than the ground, but to lay on those beds, you must've had substanntial injuries. Thus, the lucky-unlucky. 

All, though, shared a common dennominator: the Omnics most recent attack. It did not stop, even when all the soldiers were down, but plowed further, into the city. That was when Angela was deployed. 

Her instructions, as a Team Captain-sort, were simple to understand, and almost simpler to execute. 

Angela's mission debriefing, by Gabriel Reyes, with his confident voice, was brought to the front of her thoughts again. _He stood infront of a large talble, spanning out infront of him with a few others, including Angela, behind it. His arms were crossed, and he was leaning against the wall parrellel to the table. A holograph image shimmered above the tables surface. "We've recieved word of yet another Omnic uprising. However, this one requires a different strategy." Questioning murmurs started, but were quickly silenced as Reyes continued to speak, answering unheard questions with no acknowlegdement. "Since we are the closest branch to this latest breach, we will be heading directly to it. Do not assume, though, that it is_ close _to anything. Quite the opposite. Why a city, town, this far out was attacked, we don't know." A shrug of his shoulders gave a physical indication of his voice. The commander uncrossed his arms and place one on the table, supporting his weight while he lifted the other. "You, you and you," he pointed to three different people, the third being Angela, "You will be assigned a crew, and will be expected to inform them what is going on, and your mission. Your mission, being this." Reyes moved over to a projector aside him, and switched it on, messing with a few things before the display popped up on the white wall behind him. It was a larger, more detailed projection of what now was blinking out above the table._

__

__

_An overhead view was given. In the center, shifted towards the right a small amount, was a cluster of different shades, but closely-colored blues. Seeing that her past missions usually labled this as "not the enemy/objective", Angela gathered this was a city given it's mass of blue. The green, and a slightly darker shade of green accented the trees surrounding the entireity of the supposed city, aside from what was probably a road in and out of the city, and decently-smaller sized zones of white. There were four. The one lying on the south-eastern portion of the flickering blue projection was relatively smaller than the rest. The three others lay with two in the south-western quadrant and one north-western. The heavily imposed outlines of the blank spots implied their importance, one way or another. As Angela studied this, she noticed a couple red dots- if her idea of blue being the 'Good Guys' held true, that would imply these were the bad guys, in this case, Omnics- emerge sporadically from the western edge and approach the town along the road leading in. They scattered messily along the line, but followed it no doubt. As they came up to the town they immediatly swarmed the blue, marring its hues with reds. Then, the red considerably let up a lot, blue retaking its place, but a few red spots remained amidst the blue. The video began to loop, replaying over and over the plights of the blue. "So, as usual, the blue is what we want, per se. The civilians and soldiers involved in the Omnics, the red, attack." Reyes waved a hand lazily behind him, scanning the crowd with deep brown eyes, painted black with shadows. His white teeth almost glowed in comparision to his dark complexion with every formation of a word. "So, questions?" He paused, and then lifted a finger before anyone could reply, adding, "about anything of relavence to the town or Omnics, because I'll be getting to your mission after."_

_After answering questions with what little he knew about the attack, Reyes moved on to Ziegler and her peers' role. "So, you three,"-he gestured losely to the three he choose earlier- "wil be supplied a team of about 15. Soldiers and doctors. You'll enter the city, dropping down in the areas I station you in. You will destroy any omnics you find, and rescue as many injured as possible. From there, you'll exit the city to these areas." He tapped the projecton, and small areas within the forest appeared._

_"Clearings." Angela had muttered, mostly to herself, but Reyes nodded in confirmation._

_"Yup. Entering the city with our crafts will be easy, but once our presence is known, the omnics will not feel sad after blowing us out of the sky. Here, you will set up a camp, and attempt to treat your wounded. These clearings will also serve as a rendezvouz point, and you will all be picked up and carried away to safety. Happilly ever after, the End, you name it. Thats your mission. Got it?" He didn't wait for an answer, clapping his hands together and then adding, "Good! Leaders, get over here, and I'll give you your locations!" As he concluded his statement, a lesser man from the Blackwatch unit rushed in, heavy footsteps drawing Reyes' attention away from the people infront of them. The newcomer spoke in obviously hushed tones, but his panting made it difficult to speak as quietly as he wished, allowing Angela snippetts of their conversation before they left the room. "-near ... Shimad- ... illeg-.. somewhere!" His last word came out louder than the rest, an exclamation filled with doubt and annoyance. Assuminly from something missing, or yet to be found. Angela turned to the people nearest to her, about to begin a coversation of what Reyes and his subordinate were discussing, but discovered many had left through the door opposite of which Reyes took, and the few remaining spoke amongst themselves about the mission. Right, the mission. She could not let herself be distracted by some other task sure to be handled by a different squad. She forced it to the back of her mind for later inquiries, exiting the room and heading to where she would be appointed her team members._

_Angela's team had followed performd their tasks flawlessly, encountering only a few bots. They were destroyed instantaneously. They transported their wounded with ground-restricted vehicles. A large tent-like structure was put up, providing insulation and cover, where Angela currently stood._

Her thoughts traveled to her crew, who worked without a complaint. They stood out from the ill and wounded, with thier white coats and neatly tied or pushed back hair. In contrast, the soldiers dark, torn up suits, or the civilians used-to-be-bright, now-dull, shredded clothes. 

Angela stood out even further, with her red and white outfit, an altered version of her normal Valkyrie suit she donned. 

She stood still for a few moments more, before walking foward, through the wounded, thanking her medics as she went. "You're doing lovely," Angela beamed. "Your help is invaluable to us." Angela assured. "The wounded are forever thankful." Angela reassured. "Thank you for working so hard." Angela praised. 

Upon stepping outside, she instantly felt the cool air on her face, relishing it. Her face was fllushed from the body heat reflected in the large tent, and from exersion. The noise from the makeshift hospital urged her foward, towards the edge of the clearing, where the sounds from humans and machinery alike faded from her hearing. 

Although, her reprive could only last so long. 

_——_

__

A breath fell silently from pale lips, creating a small cloud which quickly rose and dissapated in the chilly air. Light, crunching footsteps. A small, shaky inhale, followed by a sharp exhale. Actions belonging to Angela, who tread through a, no, _the_ , snowy forest. Trees, seemingly endless, and all the same surrounded her in every direction. They reached into the sky, yearned for the touch of the sun. The trees weren't too close to eachother, so that anyone passing through could experience the suns rays, just as them. But long have the greedy trees waited, and long will they await for the clouds to part. Equipped only with her phone, dead, and one of her Valkryie suits, her Swiss-themed one, with a warmer, winter twist, Angela was cold, weak, and horribly lost. However, she was greatful for the ingenuity of coming up with the idea of adding extra padding on the insides, along with soft, fluffy bits lined along the suits openings were added, giving Angela "Mercy" Zieglar the look of a younger Mrs. Claus. The red and white material strongly reinforced said idea. As snow fell, it only added to the theory of Ziegler and Santa's relation, falling on her hair, shoulders and back. 

But no matter how much fluff she added to her suit, it wouldn't aid her in finding the coordinates of the nearest population. No, Angela was never too good with direction. The concept of North, East, South, West was easy enough, but anything more than _Turn left on Lincoln Way, Your destination is the third house on the right. You have now arrived at your destination_. To put it simply, she was screwed. Luckily, there was GPS, there to aid her when she took a wrong turn, which was more often than not. But now, she feared, Google maps wouldn't direct her towards the nearest city, because there was none. That, with the fact her cellular provider probably did not provide in the middle of a forest, far, far from home. There she wandered, lost and afraid.

The forest was much quieter than it's tresspasser.

Although, the forest wasn't particularily aware of much, of the _things_ barreling through its trees, towards it's poor, Mrs. Claus look-alike.

The nightmares that weren't just nightmares, rather the terrors of what could be- what _was_ behind her drove her on and on. Her footsteps, _crunch, kssh, crunch crunch kssh_ , held no difference between dragging and walking. Gradually, though, she knew she could go no more. Weariness drug down on her, terror no longer supplying the fuel she so desperatly needed.

A sigh, although not very audible, what with the panting, fell from Dr. Ziegler, as she came to a stop next to a large pine tree. A low whine, discoursing barely a tenth of the hardships Angela felt. The trees branches, weighed down by the snow, created a small dome. Anyone who so happened to find themselves lost, or just taking a quick stroll in the noiseless Russian forest alike would agree on how it could offer a small, fleeting sense of security. Angela, falling into the former category. She pulled her feet through the last few steps of snow. Ducking, she entered the trees embrace. When she came to rest by the tree , she lay a hand on it and then rested her forehead on the back of her hand. After about 30 seconds of this uncomfortable slouch, she turned around and braced herseld up, this time with her back. With both hands now idle, the doctor ran her hands through her shoulder-length blond hair, feeling the coldness of the winter air having seeped into her hair. The color no longer proved to be bright. Rather, it was now dull, marred by the snow, but one could not help but to wonder if a property in her hair brightened or lessened with the shifting of her mood. It had been long abandoned by the hair tie that usually held it up in a neat ponytail high on her head. The headpeice that adorned her hair had also been dropped somewhere, probably buried underneath layers of snow by now, which had all but stopped a couple minutes before. Never to be found again, which she felt sadness for losing such an heirloom, but was nothing compared to the unyeilding anguish that ate away at her, wore down upon her already-weary joints.

The trees embraced turned into a frosty grip.

The miserable doctor felt what little energy she had left leave her, stolen by the tree as it took her warmth from her, too, leaving her a cold, lost, and utterly broken doctor.

Angela felt a widw range of emotions, but none stood out as much as two, battling eachother. One, misery. Misery for the countless lives lost under her care. Although it wasn't the wrong medication, spoiled supplies, or Angela's non-existant inexperience, she still stood by and just _watched_. 

She should of done something, anything! "Stupid, stupid, stupid-", she attacked herself with words and with her hands, which had stopped running through her hair, now grabbing fistfulls and pulling. A sob could be heard, breaking off any other insults or verbal abuse she had. 

The sob, misery, overtaking the second emotion, anger. Anger is like a side-eaffect of sadness. Anger, however unwilling, submitted to sadness, letting the red-hot claws be replaced by icy-cold ones, directly over Angela's heart.

The frosty grip did not want to release it's grip on the doctor, nor the icy claws, for it had been a very, very long while since it's sen such a creature like Angela.

The last one to pass through here did not leave the trees embrace, nor its freezing hold.

Angela found herself on the ground soon after. Knees pulled to her chest and arms cradling her head upon them, she looked as helpless as she felt. This offered nothing in the way of warmth or energy renewal, but rather an escape; maybe if she sat here long enough, her horrible memores would escape her, leech into the greedy tree. But the tree was already busy. Draining the small flame of her life essence that burned so weakly inside her, it was a wonder she didn't vanish in a wisp of smoke. Floating up, up, up, scattering her and her failures across the unforgiving, greedy forest. 

She lifted her head slightly, and shifted her hands to her face, exhaling in defeat, a loud, shaky exhale, one that within a few moments turned into a scream muffled by the padded gloves.

The scream continued until Angela's voice wore raw and her lungs had no more air to give. Without the struggle of willing her feet to take another step foward, and another, and another, it left Angela's mind open, and subject to the endless replay, rewind, replay, rewind, replay, rewind.. of the days past events.

Things she didn't wish to recall now, nor ever. Things that would probably plague her waking hours, her sleeping hours, and anything other inbetween.

The scream, a horrifying cry of pure misery, echoed throughout the forest, empty aside from trees, and Angela. It left her feeling emptier, and much more alone. Alone, except for the screams of others that echoed not through the forest, but Angela's mind. Alone, except for the rumbling, the roaring that brought on the onslaught of wails, that drowned them out equally as fast.

It droned, on, and on, and on, not ending as the doctor slipped into unconciousness, accepting her fate, knowing the essence of her life would flicker once or twice and then give up, as Angela gave up. There was nothing left to lose, so give up, she did.

And as she slipped into hthe realm of escape, where her thoughts transferred to dreams and dreams transferred, soon, hopefully, to nothingness, the weary doctor murmured, "Forgive me."


	2. The Cruel Leader

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You'll notice I haven't said any mention of Overwatch or Blackwatch(I think? Tired.) While the two characters who've been introduced so far originate from either of those organizations, per se, I don't know how I'll incorperate the two military branches in, given this is an Alternate-universe. 
> 
> That being said, and since it's almost-obvious, to me, atleast, that Genji and Angela have not met, so Genjis cybernization hasn't taken place. Yet? I say that with a questionmark because even I don't know if I'll add that.

"Forgive me." Genji bowed his head in an attempt to hide his face which would surely give away his anger. That is, if his voice wasn't so undeniably laced with sarcasm, a dangerous emotion when spoken to the equally dangerous man sitting infront of Genji. The two sat in a room of plain white walls and a plain white tiled floor, grout buildup evident between any two tiles. To the unfamiliar eye, the room holding only a collapsable metal table, which seperated two internally warring forces, and chairs which these two sat upon, it looked like an interigation chamber. Although, sometimes it felt exactly that, a questioning room which you could not escape. Genji absolutely loathed the white room, none of his memories of his "meetings" here pleasant. 

Genji leaned foward in his chair, and pushed against the table that seperated him a mere arms length from the person he needed to leave the presence of, lest his emotions take control of him as they usually do. Slowly, he rose, hope swelling that he would exit the horrid room unchallenged. The chair squeled, stopping at the lines seperating the tiles. 

"Sit," the dangerous figure infront of him commanded. "You were not excused, nor are we done here."

Seething, Genji lowered back down into the metal chair that dug uncomfortably into his back. He rested his palms on his thighs, covered with the gray sweatpants they give for training, that Genji wore more often than just training because of comfort. Not baggy at all, like usual sweatpants, for ease of movement. Often accompanying the sweatpants was the long sleeved, thick black shirt that he wore currently. Setting aside thoughts of pants and shirts, he blissfully imagined a much different scene, of how the metal chair that gave no comfort whatsoever would sound like as it struck the man infront of him, had the circumstances been different and had Genji not been so scared of him. He could do it, though. The room wasn't small, but wasn't particularily large either. Neither man would have to run very far before reaching an escape or one another. However, Genji, who being closest to the door with his back facing it, had the upper hand in this hypothetical situation. 

But any damage done to this man, would pale _by far_ in comparision to the reprecussions to the assailant. So, Genji indulged in his thoughts, which were almost enough to quell his inner turmoil. Almost, but not quite. 

"We aren't questioning our loyalties, are we, dear Genji? That would truly be.. a tradgedy." Venom dripped off the mocking words, sending a not-so-subtle threat: _Your betrayal will mean your execution._ No, it was not a tradgedy for the cruel leader, nor any of his men. It would be a tradgedy for Genji alone.

His accusation was an obvious nod towards Genjis often flippant behavior towards anyone he encountered who bore the loyalty to the cruel leader. The attitude didn't descriminate towards outsiders, but the young man had not been in contact with many other than the followers of the man holding him in imprisonment. It was a loose term, given he had his own room, clothing, and mostly free run of the building they had set up one HQ in.

 _As if I had a choice._ Genji thought.

Genji knew information that many did not. Secrets he gained while gathering information of the Clan on his own missions long before his involvement with the Clan, which made him valuable to any number of people for different reasons. Long ago would he have been executd, if not for his skill that intrigued the leader.  
_"Such a waste," he had said, "it would be to end you."  
Genji had only glared defiantly in return, crimnson liquid dripping from the multiple cuts he had gained attempting to get away, staining the same tile floor of the same room which he sat in now._

Whether this put him as someone higher-up in the proverbiel foodchain, he didn't know, or care to know. The one sitting infront of Genji was the only one with true command and placement in the Clan.

Genji shifted his head up, meeting eyes with the man who sat infront of him. Countless meetings have taken the same course as they did now, each ending with Genji no closer to level-headedness or calm-mindedness as he was now. The man wore an amused expression, but his startling blue eyes, cold, ruined an otherwise kind emotion. Behind the smile, Genji knew, was nothing but a man whose true emotions were discoursed through his eyes, a cruel being who had given his soul long ago in return for power. Dark brown hair, almost black, swept across his forehead evenly, but spiked up randomly on his head, giving him a carefully-crafted, casual look. Again, a normality one would ascociatw with a person with normal characteristics, none of which the cruel leader had. 

"No," he paused, struggling to add, "sir." Genji replied, forcing a respectful tone into his voice, trying to make it somewhat believable. A wonder, it was, that he managed at all. "I'm loyal to you and your guys, yea." "Good." The amused smile stretches into something more, an emotion that Genji is too irritated to put thought into alight in the leaders eyes, even though Genji's own eyes have not parted from his. "You remember your sworn oath, correct?"

A nod is all Genji can give in return, not trusting his voice. Underneath his shrt, his biceps betrayed his otherwise respectful nod, which tensed and losened repeatedly in memory of meeting the cruel leader. When he had first encountered him, he had been given a choice. Death or loyalty. At first, Genji chose the former. It wasn't death that drove his desire, but rather his overconfidence and sureness that he would be able to escape before, or more dramatically, during his sentenced death. He did not, however, consider his "trial" would be done right where he had stood at that very moment, the man whipping out a gun and pressing the cool metal to Genji's forehead. 

Death was a fine line that Genji danced along often, too often. When he set a foot too close, the metaphorical line coming into focus, it opened Genjis eyes enough so to see how close he was to crossing the line. This brought Genji to an immediate unthreatening position infront of the man, asking, _begging_ for him to be give a choice once more. This only added to the interest the cruel leader found in him.

_"I," Genji had forced out through clenched teeth, "Genji S-Shimada, proclaim my loyaltis reside with this- your Clan alone. Should I even consider anything other than this truth, would be a will that is not my own. Knowing this, the only punishment acceptable for a traitor to your Clan is death. Master." He was forced to add, almost spitting out the word._

__

A high title the man had claimed for himself.

_A grin spread across the mans face, one filled with evil in the place of happiness. A grin, with the sides of his cruel smile pulling too far on either side, giving him a look close to a grimace. His eyes held the same emotion as they did now._

Insanity. 

Madness.

Genji was at the mercy of a man without compassion. One fueled by his lack of morales and his sickness. An incurable sickness that attacks at ones soul, vice-like grip refusing to ease up, if only for a little, only grabbing and squeezing tighter and tighter until a shell of a man is left, giving room for the disease to completly take hold. The man sitting infront of Genji gave a prime example of his humanity left far behind, the sickness already inhabiting most of him.

"Good, good." He repeated, never taking his eyes off the green-haired boy. "In that case, I shall soon have a mision for you." He stopped, as if contemplating something before adding, "Sparrow."

At the mention of his old nickname, Genji tensed up.

That hit a nerve, and the cruel leader knew it.

 

He watched as the boy infront of him drew two deep breaths, struggling to keep his composure. He was just as amused, if not more, with the flippant ninja under his thumb.

And that hit the same nerve of Genjis', making it harder and harder to stop himself from wrapping his hands around the poles of the chair and hitting that STUPID man upside the head with it. 

It was a reference to where Genji had come from. An old nickname turned to a codename. The nickname was selfishly his, and previously only given out to those he deemed worthy of it. When he had first been captured, they discovered an ear-piece on him he wore to keep in contact with Hanzo Shimada, his brother and partner in the 'Asashin no ie', the nickname of an agency which specialized in the obvious, asassinations, which included anything from spies, blackmailing, infiltration, direct confrontation, et cetera. It housed many of the Shimada's, along with other prestegious family names, creating a network of many ninjas across the globe. Genji had formed many good friends and alliances. Both of which he missed dearly, but he wouldn't admit so in such a heartfelt way to said friends, and espeically not his captors. When he had been relieved of his earpiece, his last connection to the outside world, Hanzo had been repeating his code name into the mic, worry and distress evident. The leader took this opportunity to turn his gaze to the captive, repeating Hanzos question of "Sparrow?", getting Genjis adamnt reply of something smart along the lines of, "You aren't worthy of calling me that!" after a few more questions begginging or ending with Sparrow. Now this name was used as a catalyst for the boys anger, only making him more furious each time it was used.

He didn't allow his thoughts to travel further, afraid he wouldn't be able to control himself. Genji struggled, and many moments passed as he forced his chest to rise and fall in a slow, rythmatic pattern. Ignoring the jibes, and the tormenting, neither of which could be thrown back, Genji closed his eyes for a couple seconds before opening them and replying, "I understand. May I leave now, to begin preperations for this mission?"

Both men knew this was a lie, knew Genji would leave this room and head straight to somewhere, anywhere, to release his anger. 

"Very well." The wide smile had now considerably decreased, back down into the cold, unwelcoming smile.  
"Dont go far, Genji." He murmured, like a mother to their child. But this statement held no love, no worry like a mothers would. It was another thinly vieled threat, warning the already-knowing Genji of the consequences of traveling too far from the cruel leaders grasp.

Genji felt elated as he could in his rage-clouded mind, shoving back in the chair harshly, causing loud squeeling, and again as he pushed in the chair. He pivoted on his heel and walked as fast as humanly possible without running or jogging to the door. As soon as he exited the roon, uncerimoniously slamming the door, he leaned back against the wall, releasing a breath he didn't know he was holding. 

After a few moments of heaving, recounting the conversation, he stood up straight, and looked down the hallways, right and left. Luckily, not a person in sight to catch his moment of weakness. But it surely would be caught if the cruel leader were to exit the empty room he sat in.

Motivated, Genji returned to his face-paced walk, before speeding up to a jog, and then quickly a run, speeding through hallways and narrow cooridoors of the compound. He had almost collided with multiple people, all equally confused, before he stopped running and looked at where his muddled mind had taken him. 

It was the exit to the compound, and beyond that, a snowy _wasteland_ filled with trees, endless, as far as the eye could see, and even farther, beyond that. The remote-ness was so they could go under the radar. Genji wished that the organization he had been assigned to had been in any other one, because of his overwhelming dislike for cold. If he had been caught by any other one, it wouldn't have been so BAD. Or so he hoped. 

Even so, with his dislike, Genji hesitantly approached the door, pausing, considering, before shoving it open, wanting to be as far away as allowed, as possible from the cruel leader. Instantly, he greeted by a gust of the cold air. At least it wasn't snowing. He took another couple steps foward, letting the door swing shut behind him. 

Genji glanced back up at the compound, not looking to see if anyone was watching him, because he already knew they were, but for more reason to put distance between himself and that man. And it did just that, drove him furthur on, towards the endless expanse of trees. His feet crunched and sunk deep as he took each step, annoyance building in his already-short tempered mood. Balling his fists, he went up to the nearest tree and kicked it, letting out a frustrated grunt. Then he continued on to another close tree and punched it, feeling the sting creep into his hands from his knuckles. He repeated this childish rage for a few cycles more, until scratches with blood welling up inside them caught his attention along his knuckles.

As he patted his knuckles gingerly on his shirt, Genji came to rest by another tree, chest heaving.

As little or as much the leader spoke to Genji- it didn't matter. Anything he said or did manage to rile him up. All his actions were with the same malicious intent that he treated Genji with.

He gave another aggrivated yell, slamming his palm against the tree that support him. This time, instead of just the echoes replying back to him, a long, high-pitched wail answered, maybe not to him, but a reply all the same. His rage subsided; forgotten as curiousity and something else pulled him towards whatever answered his shouts of anger with misery or pain.

The scream sent shivers up and down his spine, and more goosebumps than the cold could ever elict from him. He was instantly alert, dropping into a hunters' stance, waiting for another scream to follow. When one didn't, he made up his mind by taking off towards the source of the noise in the otherwise soundless forest, the echos subsiding. 

Sweat glistened on his face and neck, and could be felt on his back, but he plowed foreward, the urge to help driving him foward. Why he felt such a compelling rush to save whatever made that hair-raising scream, he didn't quite know. Perhaps it was the inner good coming out in him. Of course, anyone _normal_ would wish to save a human life, but Genji differed in that aspect of human emootion. He had witnessed many unknown persons be cut down, the better half of them with his own blade. The life drain out of their eyes, pain being their only feeling, their eyes betraying them of this feeling, and Genji knowing they suffer, but feeling indifference towards the persons continuance of life or not. 

Snow drug at his feet, begging him to _stop, rest, a break_ but with the wail bouncing around in his mind, Genji knew he couldn't- wouldn't give up. 

He searched on and on for what seemed hours, days, until hope was all but lost. He trek through the forest, the snow suddenly seeming very inviting, but even, so he plod on. Eyes straight ahead, hands shoved limply into pockets- and that's when he saw it! A bit of red, poking out from under a tree. Red, an offsetting color in this sea of white and patches of green.

_What am I looking at?_

Genji slowed down, coming to a halt about 30 ft away from the tree. Once a decidedly good distance away, should anything spring at him, he dropped to his knees, placing his elbows on the cold snow beneath him, sinking down a little bit.

The sight that met his eyes only confused him further. It looked like.. a red cloth, floating. It seemingly had holes in it, revealing parts of the snow behind it. But.. the cloth had a shape, with multiple other shapes inside of it. And the white patches he had decided to be snow were actually.. 

A human!

The shapes took form as Genji realized _what_ he was looking at, a person huddled under the droopping branches, clad in red and white. He gathered himself with renewed energy, hastily taking to his feet, racing to the tree after multiple failed attempts to get up and push off of the snow.

He didn't stop to consider what caused the source of the yowl he had heard, nor to think that the same sentence the traveler had could be his fate, too, until collapsing to his knees next to them, panting and unsure what to do. His mind raced with events being played out, undescicive on which course of acttion to take. Where his mind had so often provided solutions now failed him, which left him with the possibibly stupidist one, with the answer already provided befor him.

"Are you awake?" The green-haired boy found himself asking, no other option prevailing. It even felt stupid, moreso when the body didn't respond to his footsteps. He was afraid of asking the more serious question, replacing awake with alive, although he knew whether a person were to be asleep, or worse, dead, they would be in no position to reply in either scenario. When the person didn't reply, he could feel panic seeping into him. "I- uh, oh God. Please don't be dead, man, please." He begged the lifeless body curled in the fetal position before him. The worry set in full force, and he was terrified of being too late. He owed this stranger nothing, but the thought of their death did not sit well when there was a possibility, however slim, of this persons rescue.

Mustering up the courage, Genji tenderly pushed the persons head back, resting against the tree. He stifled a gasp with a cough when he felt how cold the skin was. As blonde hair fell aside, the head tilted, slipping, to now face the expanse of trees to Genjis right. This caused Genji to jump a bit back, pulling his hands back like a snake after a bite.

It was presumably a woman, with fair skin and blonde hair, confirming what he didn't realize he was wondering, that the face matched the feminimity of the wail. 

A few seconds passed, and Genjis heart rate came down to normal again. It was all very good and well that there was no visible blood amongst her features, decidedly beautful by Genjis subconciousness. This time, he gathered himself to press two fingers to the now-exposed area of her neck to read her pulse. His spirits skyrocketed, threatening to take Genji with it, as he heard a weak, but consistent _ba-bum, ba-bum, ba-bum_ replaying musically under his fingertips.


	3. Why?

Newfound energy courses through Genjis arms, finding its way to his legs, propelling him onward through the trees surrounding him and snow underfoot. His arms, out stretched infront of him, balance a delicate-looking woman, pale skin and golden hair shifting in the periphrials of his vision with every footstep. His left arm rests under the inside of her bent knees, and his right arm hugging her shoulder to his chest. He had angled her head foward and sideways, also resting on his chest. This was so she did not get more of a neck ache than she already would upon conciousness. 

He fell into an even pace, feet following the uneven footsteps that had carried him to the life in his arms in his panicked haste. Tiredness grasped at the weaker points of Genjis muscles, but was minute compared to the flow of adrenaline that had brought him this far; it would last a while, for this was an experience Genji was unfamilar to and it brought out an emotion of alive in him everytime he spared a glance towards the figure hanging limply in his arms. Enough of these glances were spared that his mind constructed a mental picture well enough he didn't have to even open his eyes to see her likeness, but he did nonetheless. 

During one of these glances, he hadn't seen a larger-than-normal indent in the snow, causing the normally-careful ninja to take a particularily hard step, causing the figure in his arms to share his careless misstep, head falling slightly backwards, face now more upturned to Genji than before. This gave him time to study the "sleeping" face of whoever this turned out to be. The pale skin, something Genji had already thouroughly observed, hinted towards Caucasian decent, but the contour of her face: high cheekbones, sharp jawline, and angle in which shut eyelids rest suggested otherwise, of a more foriegn nationality. Eyebrows shades darker than her hair framed closed eyes, arching in a gradual slope until drawing back down at the peak in a lesser slope. Her golden-blonde hair fell around her face, bangs indicated through being relativly shorter than the rest of her hair. It curled outwards towards the ends.

Her lips were an unnatural color of pinkish-red, bordering a purple that conveyed the message of their owner quite clearly: _It's cold._ But Genji knew this, as he could feel it pricking at his limbs, threatening to take hold dare he pause now. The off color of the lips only provided further reasoning to push foward towards the one place he knew to ask for hell, however much he hated it. Doing so would surely sentence the one in his arms to a shared fate with him, a loose imprisonment with a half-certainty of ones life in exchange for loyalty, or in Genjis case, an easily-seen act of loyalty through stiff gestures and only a little amount of spoken words.

Not only that, but just the general toxicity freely floating through the air of the compound, lingering in the minds or hearts of those who inhabited it. One could escape it by escaping the compound, but escaping the compound can be found guilty as treason, punishable by death. An escape, though, for the few brave enough to try. Although, some may escape with their lives and not a single target placed on their back our a bounty of their namesame and likeness of their face. They are the few either unimportant enough they hardly mattered, knew so little that they couldn't reveal classified information even if they wanted to, or those opposite to that. They are the ones with enough authority to impose a threat upon the illegal actions of the Clan, but won't unless provoked. But those who have far more power than Genjis capturers, and still willingly work alongside them, are already tainted with evil.

It is too far to be reversable to escape with escap _ing_ , since the evil resides inside the one who claims and weilds such power for evil. However, that is a hypocritical thought. Genji is no better than any one of the roaming residents of the compounds hallways, because he is an Assassin. He has ended too many lives with purpose and the intent to kill to be anything _but_ evil.

That thought had and has always constantly pricked at the back of his mind, reminding him repeatedly that his transgressions were no better than that of his adopted Clan, or his old one with his familys namesake looping him in with the rest of the assassins. However, Genji knew he still held some of his humanity, morals, inside him with the loathing he felt towards those who held him captive, the human emotions that he felt on a day to day basis that, by all means, made him human. The sense of justice, however diluted from the blood of many spilled by his hands, still burned deep inside of him, a goodness that couldn't be left behind. But, it could be muted or buried. Not enough so for his "evil" side to reign control, watch with glee and maniacal laughter shown through the blood splattered across his face as its owners life drains with every ounce of blood spilling onto the pavement below. Just enough that while no emotions drug him down and hinder his actions with a sense of wrong and right, but rather a knowingness that ending anothers life was a cruel price to pay for ones wrong-doings or friendship or emnity with another whose life is as easily doused as his opposers was.

That, along side the utterly human urge to save and rescue someone who he owes nothing to, who could've been not even human, who could've been evil- no. The debating of whether who he held in his arms was evil could be put off, but he truly did believe that cry of pain could not have come from someone inflicting pain upon another, or a trap, too real, too heavily thought through with too many variables at stake. Who would set a trap out in the middle of nowhere, go through the troubles of placing this woman here with such a _real_ cry, skin cold and lips an ominious shade, only to hope someone would coincidentally be outside. And if that were the case, seeing as it was Genji who picked up on the scream, and who does not often venture outside, and with no subconconcious manipulation via anyone he had come in contact with, that would lead Genji to believe anyone inside the compound or near would do. Unless there was something, some _one_ other than them. But no, they had checked multiple times for any form of life other than trees and the occasional wildlife brave enough to tough out the cold winter. An elaborate plan that would be, but Genji knew the chances of this truly being a trap, despite his mind being wired to be suspicious of those around him, were slim given all the factors. 

Simply a lost hiker? With no gear on their person, visible at least, and very weirdly festive.. gear?.. as the rescuees only clothing choice. The way it rubbed against Genjis skin, soft but firm, hinted at innerworkings or extra parts added along the inside, providing extra warmth or safety from the elements. At least they had come prepared, had they not Genji might not of come across the girl alive. Nor would she have made it that far to even be in range to have her cry reach Genjis ears.

Too many possibilities filled Genjis mind, confusing him further and only leaving him with more questions. The slow walk back woul provide ample time for his first questions to be answered, had they been awake, but then more would arise with answers being given of unknown things Genji wished to learn about. Those could wait, he supposed, as his thoughta traveled to more pressing matters, namely the compound which lay ahead of him, peeking through the trees and snow. Who exactly he would bring her to, what he would say, her fate, everything. 

He took a deep breath, and tightened his arms around the body curled up in his arms as he rounded the last tree and came into full view of the out of place building. It was rather large for being in the middle of a forest, painted with colors to match the greens ad whites in a camoflauge, the roof painted the same. It reached only two stories high, but expanded outward in a huge rectangle. Small windows lined each floor, hidden to an outsider but revealed to those who knew where to look.

Genji approached the shorter edge of the HQ, bracing himself for snide remarks or curious comments of his "wanderings", or the strange woman in his arms. He stopped at the door a few for a few moments, pondering the best way to open it. He decided on the first plan, of kicking the door with a foot, knocking. His usual entrance card sat inside his back pocket, accessable only through difficult manuevering around the body, or setting it down entirely, an option he was opposed to doing, no matter how short, for the others wellbeing. 

The specific entrance he choose led to the hallway which held one supply room, a lunch room, and some of the washrooms. An odd layout, but it took up only about 20% of the compounds first floor, which was mirrored along the edge opposite of the one Genji stood at with the exception of the lunch room being replaced with bathrooms and shower rooms. The second floor bore a similar layout only with the bathrooms and a few showers, for it was mainly used for work. Bedrooms were small, but big enough for an L-shaped desk with storage compartments below, a bed, and a compartment under the bed that pulls out with ample enough room for 12 pairs of clothes, provided they're folded. Seven for seven days a week, the eigth for a spare change, and the rest being for workout or training. Mission gear was withheld for safe keeping and matience in a different storage room. Any personal belongings were stuffed in free space through the room; on the small windowsill, between the bed and desk, under it, along or on the walls. However, not many owned other than person hygene products and a jacket as "personal" belongings. The few that did were limited and could barely be valued as personal, only holding value of being sentimental of something or other or important _things_. This varied, of course, but anything of importance, while holding no sentimental value to oneself, could fall into this category. Genjis room differed not from the others average room, the be reaching from the desk to one wall, and the L-shapd desk reaching from the bed to the corner of another wall, fitting the corner and expanding out and stopping at the doorway.

The only possesion he had were three blades. He had carried them on himself at the time of capture, his lethal weapons, and they had been discared from him, only to be given back with restrictions of their use. Each time he wished to open the case which held them, a security code was needed. When he entered this code, he had to wait for upwards of 5 minutes until a higherup deems it nesscary for it to open, being alerted that Genji was opening it. It was a tiring task, but smart on their part, having a ninja with the blood of many already dried and invisible on his hands running around with his weapon of choice was not exactly smart in a place he was being held captive.

Letting all of their bodies crumple to the ground, lifeless, in their own pool of red wasn't a very cheerful thought, but it wouldn't bring a tear to Genji's eye either if this were to happen. Freedom, would finally be-

The door swung open under his foot, the fourth round of knocks having just begun.

"Shimada! What-" A man stood infront of Genji, hazel-green eyes narrowed with annoyance. The small one-way window in the door only revealed Genjis face, so when it was opened the man was faced with an unexpected sight. He looked ready to continue on in a fit, but was stopped, his mouth left slightly open in a frozen confusion. Brown hair pushed to either side of his face, stubble lined the edge of his sharp jaw, painted a familiar picture for Genji of one of the people in the Clan who were equal in tiers in terms of roles of the Clan. 

Genjis mind raced. He was sure if he could remember the males name it would reveal if he truly was no more or no less than Genji. Wary seconds passed as he scrolled through a list of names he remembered to be similar to this mans face. _Shit, what was his name.. Al.. Eph.. El.. Elijah!_ He finally concluded, knowing he had come upon the right name, and relieved because he knew for certain Elijah was no higher up than him tier-wise, meaning could not take control of the situation without consulting an actual higher up, being in no position of authority over Genji. Elijah probably could assert dominance over Genji because Genji was technically still a prisoner, no matter how much free reign he was given around. But the lesser men usually did not engage in such matters, unless certain they were in the right, actions just in the cruel leaders eyes, lest they be wrong and punishment for wasting time ensued. Which would give Genji enough time to leave her at least in the infirmary before he was confronted with questions or intervened on his way there, as long as no stray ones lingered in the hallways at this odd an hour, when they were usually dealing with buisness. 

"Thanks," was all Genji replied, pushing past Elijah, gently, minding the life he held in his arms.

He could feel the irritation rolling off Elijah in waves, his face contored into that of a displeased frown, but Genji didn't care as he turned to his right and left the man without further explanation. As he reached the end of one hallway, he made a sharp turn, almost ramming into another. He profusely apologized, not to the one he almost knocked over, but to the unknown person in his arms. He still recieved a gruff noise, presumably a forgiveness from the awaker one of the two, and Genji continued walking. Multitudes of eyes followed him as he passed rooms inhabited by people or walked past people lounging in the hallways. Questioning whispers reached his ears, not enough to decipher exact wrongs, but enough to understand the subject and confusion in the discourse.

The staring or quiet gossip didn't bother Ggenji, he was more or less forced to get used to it when he first arrived and explored the hallways. He, too, was an unknown, and now being an unknown troublemaker with an unknown woman dangling limply in his arms, it did not lessen the attention, only the opposite.

His face no longer took up a glare and his mouth set in a hard line, discouraging the more timid of engaging- or attempting to- in a conversation when he walked the hallways as the newest recruit, an interesting case. There was often murmurs around him, as they do noow, but about his "loyalty", and why a spy was allowed to walk among them. As if he held any loyalty to any of these people. The second a chance arose for for their downfall, Genji would take it, without a second thought. It wasn't nesscarily the actual message of the jabs that got him, rather the nerve of these villians, collectivly, dared to judge him. It was like poking a lion in a cage with a 10-foot pole. The closest he had to an ally in the complex was one of the hired mercenaries who visted many times pre- and during the ninjas mission. He spoke to the other man, who was probably in his late thirties, early forties, each time, about "outside", or stuff going on in the world Genji might've missed. In return, Genji gave him respectful answers and sometimes remarks which would be seen in a budding friendship. Or at least, until one of the mans missions went "wrong". He knew the possibility was high of dying, what with his line of work, but to him it seemed like a cruel twist of fate, the mission he was sent out with a different team, was the mission he didn't return from. Whether it was truly accidental, sabotage, or fate and karma were real, Genji couldn't decide on. A friendship to an outsider was dangerous when given to Genji. The superiors don't worry about ethics or morals when a threat comes into play. To them, human life is almost a mercantile thing. The death, or dissapearence of someone he was in the process of forming a friendship didn't make Genji as sad as would the passing of a friend, lover, or relative would, but it did set him off nonetheless. These suspicions of sabotage had brought another deadly look to his face he was in the presence of anyone affiliated with the organization. With time did it lessen, like the first time, into a more approachable look that still retained a small amount of his bite.

Now, though, his old scowl did replace his usual features. But there was a new emotion in addition, determination. Anyone could see it shaped across his face, carved alongside daring anyone to stand in his way. They did not. Only their eyes trailed him in bewilderment as he passed each different person. A scene, he was.

Genji finally rounded the last corner, coming upon a medical wing. Scattered about were scientists calculating one thing or another, or nurses and doctors. It was strange, seeing doctors in wear not usually worn by similar people in their profession; blacks and grays, sometimes plain old clothing, non-professional shoes, but with an organization with the likes of this one hiring or recruiting already-shady people, it didn't seem too far out of the book. Stereotypically, doctors and nurses were kind individuals who held no bias, and whilw that held true, surprisingly, for two or three, most here were stoic, or overly rushed, uncaring about the patients discomfort aside from administering correct dosages or wrapping the correct shoulder. Genji, gaining many wounds upon his entrance, had been doctored by each type of personality they held. 

That meant he knew who would be the nicest, most understanding. He could feel his arms weakening with every second passing, his adrenaline high long gone. But, he would not set her down until it was a hospital bed under his arms, prepared and ready to assess her situation. He was no doctor, nor professional of any sort in the medical field, but he knew of the dangers cold brought with it, and what havock it could wreak inside and on the human body.

Genji approached one of the rooms, a curtain lining the front for privacy, yet ease of access for anything needing to enter. He began to kick the wall in three quick, light rythmatic taps, this time using his voice to call out in a slightly unsteady voice the name that could be read on the plaque which sat above the sliding curtains hooks, "Dr. Novak."

There was silence for a few moments, much to Genjis dismay, before a chair rolling across the floor and then footsteps grew louder, nearing the curtain. It was pulled back, to reveal the face of a 30-something-old-man, a clean shaven face and slicked back, light-brown hair neatly pulled to the side. "Genji? A surprise to see you." He pointedly looked at the red and white bundle of a human in his arms before stepping off to the left, allowing Genji to step beyond the threshhold of the room. The curtains fell back into place as he followed Genji in. The doctor pressed with no questions, only nodding his head to the bed, which Genji layed down his burden on with obvious relief. He rolled both shoulders a couple times, soreness pricking heavier at his joints. After he was done, Genji focused his attention on the doctor. He had moved the woman into a position in which h could more easily assess her. Long, tense seconds passed as he wheeled his stool to the bedside, and began monitoring her vials with primitve fashion, waiting for his electronic instruments to calibrate. First he pressed two fingers to the same place Genji had, before removing them and giving Genji an affirmative nod he didn't realize he needed. A breath, something he didn't realize he was _holding_ , either deflated his lungs and set a churning part of him at ease. She had made it to the doctor in time. He did not seem rushed nor inconvienced of any sort, and while that might've been a trait other doctors held in the compound, Dr. Novak did not share that with them. He was unlike them, so greatly differed, it genuinly confused Genji. The doctor always seemed calm, collected, and what one would only describe as caring towards his patients. Was he forced into this situation, too, like Genji? Was he struggling financially? Did he get a good bribe? Or was he actually like every other one of them, evil, to be frank, under a mask of kind and calm? No. He has shown and presented himself as a respectable man admisdt so many who could not say the same, and unless he proved to be otherwise, Genji would treat him with at least some respect a man truly as caring as Novak is deserves.

"Ahh.. thank you, Doc'." Genji bowed his head once, quickly, to express thanks his tired-slurred words could not convey.

His nod was returned with a small, knowing smile as the doctor replied, "No problem, _kid_." He taunted back, his voice not condescending, only amused. Before Genji could think of a smart reply, Dr. Novak continued on, "Genji. I see that you're tired. You won't have to explain yourself now, but tomorrow, after you have rested, I expect answers as to why you bring me a strange woman to care for. That being said, she doesn't seem to be in too bad of a shape, however, I must do a bit more extensive examinations to be able to confirm myself. Now, rest. Another nurse will be called in soon to do this task, so in the mean timw, I sugget you take your leave and head to your room before you make a nueisance of yourself." With a last wave, he stood up and pushed his chair to the desk along the far sidd of the room before exiting through the curtain.

Genji stood unwavering for a couple seconds, looking down at the body before him. She would wake up, probably with unfamiliar faces hovering over her, in an unfamiliar room in an unfamiliar bed with an unfamiliar setting. Unknowing of how she got there, confused and unknowing of the mess Genji had subsequently entangled her in when he decided to save this strangers life. He felt bad, sorry for this woman, who might be innocent and kind, being subjected to a conjuring of evil lurking in everyone inside the building, every hallway, every room, everything and everyone. But there's a 50/50 chance, every coin has another side, every story another perspective. She might fit right in. Where Genji has not, has refused to. 

A yawn tears open his mouth, the need for sleep setting in full force, pulling him from his thoughts. He lets his eyes close for a second, before reopening and heading towards the exit. Just as he reached the curtain, he pauses, throwing a glance and a small "get well soon" over his shoulder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks.


	4. Lost

Beep. 

_Where am I?_

Beep.

Beep.

Beep.

Tiredness weighed down upon Angela. Her bones felt heavy, and she felt tired. It felt like a pressure was being pushed upon every inch of her body, but it felt distant, like the rememberance of a different timeline, or a phantom cloud had landed on her. It was a strange feeling. Why? What was the cause? 

A steady _beep_ intruded Angela's thoughts. It paced at a slow, rythmatic beat. She had heard it before, stirring at the edge of her conciousness, trying to understand why she felt so heavy. 

Beep.

_A heart rate monitor? Did I fall asleep on the job?_

Wherever she was, the room felt almost cozy warm.

She could hear the beeping pick up a bit in pace, matching her own fluttering heart. Was it.. her, connected to the vitals monitor? Slowly, the beeps fell back down to it's pace before, a steady beep with healthy intervals in between. Perhaps she had an accident and had no memory of such events. She wracked her sluggish brain for anything to clue her in. Dread of an unknown foe seeped into her in place of tiredness, which lessened in her waking up. Why? Was an important dateline missed? No. . .

Beep. 

The uneasines she noted earlier did not falter, only grew. Visions of a town, snowy-covered rooftops bright in the sky filtered in hazily into her sleep-muddled mind. Multiple chimneys chugged large columns of black smoke into the air. Angela struggled to understand what she saw, why this was accompanied and only multiplied her dread. 

Beep.

Images of trees, their boughs weighed down by pounds upon pounds of snow flashed through her mind, alongside the origin of the chimneys, which weren't actually controlled blazes being used to warm ones house up, but rather thick columns of smoke sprouting directly from the rooftops, fires ablaze inside a good portion of the houses lining the streets of the small town. 

A bad dream? 

Then why did she feel so- 

Beep. 

Angela's eyes flew open, wide and panicked as she was hit full-force with memories concerning her last mission. A dark room, with light provided by a dim lamp sitting opposite to her bed. A steady flow of what she assumed to be a morphine drip, implying she would feel pain. It explained the heaviness of her body, the invisible force weighing atop her. Although, it must not've been ttoo strong a dosage. A desk sat in the farthest corner of the room, a small black stool in front of it. A curtain, closed, sat dividing Angela from whatever lay outside. Her red and white attire had been replaced with a thin, white gown.

Beep.

Her heart rate picked up again, as she recollected past events.

Beep.

Gabriel Reyes' debrieifing. The short hovercraft ride, sitting nearest to the wall next to her Second-in-Command should anything happen to her, or for extra leadership need it be on request. Traversing through the town, locating the wounded or those in need of saving. Arriving at camp and constructing the huge tent, which was then used for housing the wounded for a couple hours while they attented to what they could with limited supplies until backup arrived and escorted them away from the Omnic-infested town. But.. before they got help..

Beep. 

The curtain whirled open, halting the flow of memories if only for a moment, and a younger-looking man in a casual outfit walked in. Brown eyes met blue ones as he stepped through the curtain, and let it whisk shut behind him. A look of calm was settled across his face as he walked to Angela's bedside. Neither man nor woman said something fora few moments, the electrocardiogram providing a background noise of her accellerated heart beat.

"How are you feeling?" The man finally asked, letting his eyes fall from Angelas confused and angst filled ones. Where was she? Who could've rescued her, that dep in the forest? How was she alive?

Many questions surge foward, begging to be asked, and in her panic, she blurted out, "Where am I?" She gave a question of her own in reply. Her voice was that of a harsh croak, so she gave a few small weak coughs, before realizing her disrespetfulness. Someone has rescued her, however much she just wished to not experience lifes' trials any longer, and she had the nerve to avoid his question and ask hers without as much as a 'thanks'. Hurridly, she revised her reply. "I-I'm sorry. That was rude of me. I feel tired, is all."

A light chuckle came from the man before her, an attempt to set her worries of her being portrayed as an ill-mannered brat at ease.

"It's perfectly fine. Your drowsiness will wear off soon, but I doubt your strength will return fully as quick. No worries, though. You should be down to go. I'm Dr. Novak, by the way. Chase Novak." Dr. Novaks smile broadened, welcoming. He looked at Angela expectantly, as she racked her mind for any doctor under this name. None came to her, so she settled with replying only with her name, not her title, nor the organization she came from. Of course, being the creator od nanobiotic technology and Head of Medical Sciences didn't make her an inconspicious figure in the slighted, but it was safer to be truthful than give a stranger an alias when he might be testing her. A fake name proved one had something to hide, one way or another. "Angela Ziegler." 

"An-gel-a Zieg-ler," he mused, carefully enuinciating each syllable of her name. A faint European accent tinged under the well-pronounced english of the man. She knew that she was no one to judge, her accent strong and clear, but she spoke english well. Having travelled the worlds nations multiple times, she picked up many different languages, some more fluent than others, but English stil remained the second-easiest one, only topped by her mother tongue.

"Where are you from, Angela?" The doctor abruptly questioned her, a thoughtful look on his face. 

"Switzerland." She replied back carefully, unsure. 

Novak _tsk_ 'd in friendly dissaproval. Had she said something wrong? "You are a ways from home, don't'cha think?" He tilted his head. "Why were you all alone out here? Pretty lucky one of our men found you." 

Out here? Did that mean Angela was still surrounded by the dense, endless forest? She shivered. But if that were true, why had Reyes not informed her of them? Did he not know? Did the Omnics know? Was she about to be stormed and trampled by the monstrous bots rampaging through the forest? The beep that had faded into a constant noise she had gotten used to picked back up, faster and in an urgent page. Was she in another organizations base? " _Our men_ ". 

The man glanced at her vitals, and raised an eyebrow quizically, before saying, "Those can be removed." He flipped a couple switches and tapped at a screen for a few moments before the beeping cut off, and the room was filled with a strange silence. "I won't peek." He winked good-naturedly, making a show of covering his back and facing the wall behind him. Although it was easy enough to rip off the devices attached to her skin without flashing the doctor with he probably wouldn't mind seeing, he gave her the privacy to set her more at eae. Angela didn't hesitate to reach under the thin cloth gown on her and tear off the electrodes, the pain small but a dull throbbing persisted, pulsating in a rythmn of her heart. As the last few were torn off, she swore the throbbing did not feel so distant, now on her own body instead of anothers', as if her nerve exceroceptors decided to wake up from a dream.

She finished and placed them on the free bed space aside her. One slipped off on either side but she didn't bother to pull them back up into neatness. She waited for the doctor to turn around, before realizing he, too, was waiting for her. Quickly, she gave him permission to turn back around.

"If I may ask.. where are we?" She asked slowly, as if approaching a beast with soothing words and promises of painless interactions.

"A hospital in Russia." He spoke with a well-crafted, although fake Russian accent, a thin smirk playing on his lips.

Angela shifted her arms to either side of herself and pushed down, moving into a sitting position as Dr. Novak turned back around and faced her. "Well, Mrs. Angela, in any case, you were lucky to be found when you were. You have no symptoms of frostbite, hypothermia, anything. Lucky indeed. But, my superiors will want to question you. Be honest." He tapped his temple, saying his last two words in a sing-song voice.

Insinuating dishonesty was punished? 

_Of course dishonesty would be punished, it is wrong!_ she scolded herself. _Perhaps I am looking too far into this.. he could've meant that his superious in more trained doctors. But.. the tone of his voice held a teasing voice pitch and a certain enuciation of his sylabifiation, as if knowing something she didn't. Her suspicions did not melt, especially with Novaks comments that suggested this was other than just a hospital._

Alarm panged inside her stomach. Yes, this was an organization of some sort. But for what? Why were they out here? Did they operate in shady buisness that made it nescary to go off the charts? 

A breath in, a breath out. Steadying her voice to not betray her distress at her supposed calamity, Angela evenly asked, "Your superiors?"

He didn't hesitate to reply, combing a hand through his short hair and nonchalantly saying, "The Boss-man and his second-in-command, who's also his son." He snorted. "Mr. Xavier and León Jäger. Now, if those are their _real_ names.. don't ask me." He paused, his hand also stopping on his head. It looked as if someone else had given him an unseen order. He tilted his head to the right ever so slightly. An earpiece? 

A second lated his smile widened and he held a hand to his right ear. "Will do." He said cheerily. Turning his eyes towards Angela, he smiled like a joke had been told. "Well, maybe ought to ask him yourself. You might be a little stiff, but I assume you can stand. There are a change of clothes on the table to your right." She peered ovr the edge of her bed and saw a small table blocked from her vision beforehand. On it laid neatly folded black and gray clothes. In the back of her mind she wondered what they did with her Valkyrie suit, but more imediate matters overtook her. She was going to meet their leader? She supressed a shiver, fear of the unknowing tugging inside her. This time she could not hide the nervousness as the doctor turned to exit the room, asking meekly, "Right now?"

"Yes, ma'am." He replied, all his playfulness still intact and woven in his words. He brushed past the curtains and pulled them back into place. A dull thump and slide off to the left outside her door indicated he had stoppe and leaned up against the wall. 

Angela slowly shifted her legs towards the right side of her bed, feeling the muscles tighten and throb with a dull ache. She got her right leg over, then used it to help her pull weight and her left leg over so they dangled off the side, the tips of ofer toes brushing the floor.

She slid closer to the edge, pushing experimentally against the floor, testing her ability to stand. After a few seconds, she put more weight into her feet. It was a pleasant surprise to find that they supported her as they would a person after a long car ride. Stiff muscles complained with a small, fire- _y_ pain, but it didn't bother Angela, as she had felt far worse pains than a couple aching joints.

Gently, she shifted all of her weight onto her feet, sliding off the bed. She held one hand below her, body twisted to the right, so her balance could return without her falling back down to the bed. She waited a few more moments, and then removed her hand from the bed. Angela took a couple seconds each to stretch and test her reflexes. Steadily, the aliveness returned to her body, like when ones blood circulation is cut off on a limb, then relieved of the foriegn pressure and the blood comes rushing back with a tingling sensation. 

Multiple of her joints popped when she began stretching, and when she bent over to grab the clothes, her lower back gave a satisfying _pop, pop, pop_. She didn't normally crack her own joints, but the pressure was a welcome feeling. She didn't feel as stiff. Her body was not used to long periods of little to no motion, so when she had been weakened and then numbed of the pain, she only could assume that her bodies protest was including the popping. The amount of popping only furthered her questions of how long she had rested.

Angela slid off the hospital gown, watching it fall to the floor slowly and then forming around her feet. Her eyes scanned her body, looking for signs of injuries or suspicious objects on her visible skin. When she didn't see anything, she reached to the clothing and began pawing through for undergarnments. They were simple and smart, and when she slipped them on quickly, ignoring the soreness holding her limbs hostage, she noticed they were almost perfectly tailored, too. Aside from a small, almost unnoticable tightness in the elastic under her breasts and around her waist, they fit and were comfortable, soft against her skin. The shirt was a thick, tightly-fitting longsleeved turtlenecked one with slightly rougher, but not by much, material. As she slipped it over her head, she noted the tag printed in almost the same shade on the inside of the shirt written in Japanese kanji. Angela didn't have enough understanding of the language to decipher what it said, and didn't bother because it's importance to her was low. She only understood few formalities and a couple of off phrases and words. The shirt was a few shades lighter than the pants, which were black, decently thick pants that clung to her, much like the shirt, yet loser by a small amount. Comfortable, and sensible for physical activities. Socks fell from inside the folded pants when she picked them up, and now, after sliding into the pants, she picked them up and slid them onto her feet. Like before, the socks, too, fit marvellously. She looked around for shoes, bbut found none.

Allowing herself another couple moments of rest, Angela stood and took a deep breath, preparing herself. It wasn't as if she could postpone her meeting with Mr. Jäger, nor alleviate her tensions, so all she could do was steel herself.

Angela padded silently across the floor, socks masking the noise bare feet or shoes would make agaisnt the floor. Carefully and almost as soundlessly as she had walked, she pulled back the curtain and found the doctor where she suspected he would stand. He leaned agaisnt the wall, arms crossed and head tilted up.

She cleared her throat. Dr. Novak jumped, a startled expression crossing his face before he replaced it with his usual amicable one. "I see you're all ready." He coughed, attempting to hide his jumpy attitude. She wondered if she had genuinly managed to catch him off guard, or was there a reason for his skittishness. "Well, shall we?" He motioned to a door on the farside of the room. The room was a semi-circle, lined by curtains like the ones she had been inhabiting in her unconciousness. An equally curved desk lay in the center, multple moniters and chairs on and behind it. Nobody currently sat in any. 

The doctor made for the door, with Angela hesitantly following. Her heartbeat picked up again as he opened it, and stepped outside.

A dim hallway greeted her eyes. It was much more lit than her hospital room, but not an obtrusive brightness like the bright white hallways usually seen in hospitals or medical centers. The treck to the room she wanted in was short but confusing, a Labryinth of hallways and doors. She must've gave some sign of confusion, because a knowing smile was already spread across Dr. Novak face as her turned and spoke to her during the walk and said, "Don't worry; you'll get used to it soon." 

_Hopefully,_ she thought, _he means until she is deemed healthy and someone could pick her up._

Her conviction to let her miserable life go had faded considerably with a clearer head, and while she still felt endless waves of guilt soaking and pulling her under, she didn't wish her punishment to be imprisoned, held captive by dangerous people, where she could never help anyone for fear of her wits being put to evil. Anyone willing to imprison the innocent was decidedly evil. At least, as innocent as Angela could be, her guilt convincing her she wasn't.

When they came to an unmarked door, that held no signifigance or differentiation from the rest aside from four curious lines carved in the northernmost area of the door, the doctors stopped. The lines were small, placed the sane as the three's and two's which occupied other doors. 

"Well, let's hope this goes well." He gave a childish laugh, and then spoke into his earpiece, the joyful note remaining, saying, "We're here!", as if this was a party Angela had not been aware of. The door swung open moments later, and Angela was thankful subconciously the doctor had stopped not so close to the door, as they both would've been taken out. Then again, he was probably used to it. 

Angela felt a pressure on the small of her back, a hand that belonged to Dr. Novak guiding her gently yet commandly to the doors entrance. 

Angela filled her lungs once more, and stepped into the dreaded room, where three men await her. 

One, the one who presumably opened the door.  
Two, a man with snake-like icy eyes.  
And three, a green-haired boy whose chocolate eyes found Angelas and conveyed thousands of untold plights and miseries, before dropping back down to fix the table with a searching gaze.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So they.. meet?


	5. Stare

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It is short, but yes, I am still alive.

Nervousness clamped Angela's fists together at her sides. Dr. Novak's pressure on the small of her back remained, pushing her foward. The room Angela had been escorted to was plain and small. Its few adornments consisted of an equally plain, boring table and chairs. On either side of the table sat collapsable metal chairs, two of which on the side farthest from Angela were occupied by two men. Three pairs of eyes fixed onto Angela, only heightening her fears influenced by pointed remarks and phrases seemingly holding more meaning than what Angela heard and understood from the doctor. Each persons eyes stared at Angela with a varying amount of emotions, including hungry curiosity and something suspiciously close to worry in the odd one out of the three. Her mind had already set him apart from the other two, but didn't have the time to process how or why she had come to that conclusion. 

As she moved foward, Angela started to study each person before her closely in turn. The one who had been closest to the door was now moving back to the two others side. The twos hair differed in the very dark shade of brown and a much lighter shade on the standing one, but he shared the same cunning, ice-blue eyes and lithe yet sturdy form with the man behind the table. Aristocratic features were evident on the two, although the older one who remained seated had more heavily-influenced features of such. High cheek bones and angular eyebrows gave both a smug, borderline arrogant look, yet little emotion was given otherwise. Related, Angela concluded. She didn't allow herself to construct a further opinion so quickly of these two figures before they had even spoken, and even so when her belly pricked with uneasiness at their presence, it would not do to have a pre-formed unfairly rude opinion of the men who might very well decide her fate. Be it they turn out merciful or cruel, a snappy or biased attitude would get Angela nowhere.

As Angela slowed her pace and tentivly stepped closer towards then with light footsteps, her focus of studying each man was taken away before her eyes found the third male. The one who had yet to sit had moved to the others' side, lowering his head slightly, speaking quietly yet clearly to him, shifting his unnerving gaze away from Angela. His words did not meet her ears, muffled by the pounding of her nervous heart, but his tone conveyed his relative meaning. He was asking a question, to which he was given a nod in response, the second pair of ice-blue eyes still not removed from Angela. The younger, content with his reply, shifted back to his full height, which was undeniably tall, and headed towards Angela. Fear pulsed through Angela, mind quickly running through the multitudes of things the man might plan to do upon approching her. However, a small amount of relief replaced terror supplied by the man as he only dipped his head politly to Angela, a confident air about him. His shoes tapped quietly as he left the room, allowing the door to shut behind him. Just before it clicked shut, he heard the footsteps pause and a short exchange between the doctor still outside the now-closed door and the man exiting. 

The door clicked shut, a second and third quick _slide-click_ as the door fell into place, and possibly locked via remote control or from the outside. Angelas focus was redirected to the now-two who were infront of her. Her eyes finally rested on the third male as the older commanded her to sit. His voice was masculine, but Angela could not determine much from a one-worded sentence. Closing the gap between her and the table, Angela allowed the few seconds delay before she sat down to study the thirds' face. Brown eyes no longer studied her as she did them, instead focused on the table. Unhapiness was clearly written across his face, thick eyebrows pulled down over narrowed eyes, his mouth set into a scowl. His hair was an odd color, green and ruffled. He didn’t seem to be much older than Angela, possibly even younger.

Her gaze flicked back and forth between the two as she tried to understand what their relationship was. From both came highly varying attitudes, one confident and one irritated, seemingly at the unconvience of having to take part in Angela's questioning.

She delicatly sat down, giving herself a respectful posture, the cool of the metal barely seeping through her thick clothing.

Steeling herself, Angela gave a small nod, keeping her head bowed for an extra moment. It was like approaching a hungry beast, one foul step and she would be its next meal.

_This was all happening so fast!_


End file.
